Mascaraed … Poem by Mark Heathcote

My heart isn't a lavatory seat for you to take a dump on
My souls isn't a lemon for you to squeeze the last few drops from
My feelings count, they matter, whatever I do or say is wrong.
… So I'm a square peg, in a round hole but here I'm not alone
At least I am consistent, minute to minute
Hour upon hour, year after year
When I say I love you, I meant it dear.
I wasn't shouting 'Whatever' in some heartless mascaraed …
I wasn't acting out of character all soppy and weird.
I don't come running with tears and tantrums
With vacuous promises, I'll change, change for the better
Time and time again, all I have in my pocket is loose change.
I've fought a few battles, gone far too many rounds
You've floored me to the canvas knocked me out for the count
But this time I'm staying down, I'm leaving the ring
And whatever belt, crown or trophy fits you best please wear it proud
I know when I have been beaten the victory is yours
Have the house the kids and even your own last vitriolic words.